Between the Line
by WildPyro
Summary: [HIATUS] Anastasia is grateful for borrowing Kate's car to the interview. Unfortunately, she runs over a young and mysterious man that just happens to be the very man she's about to meet.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone! I'm new to the world of writing fanfiction, but after spending so much time reading them, I guess the time has come for me to be brave enough and try this out! Please be gentle, but I welcome constructive criticism (and expect it!).**

**About this story... well, I think I haven't come across this idea yet (correct me if I'm wrong). This isn't just a story where Ana meets Christian in a different way, but nothing beyond that changes. There will be some funny and unexpected twists! I just love these two so much! ^^**

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_"A smile is a curve that sets everything straight." _

* * *

I glance at the auto dimming mirror in front of me, trying my best to adjust my hair while waiting in traffic. A few strands fall out of the hurried pony tail I have done. Damn this.

On a regular day, I wouldn't pay attention to these details, but considering I'm interviewing an important person I should just make this little effort. Not exactly little, though. I have no experience whatsoever in sitting by someone's side and throw them questions and still pretend I'm interested.

Not to mention I don't even know who I'm supposed to interrogate. Well, yes, he's some over-the-top and mega-rich business man that, apparently, doesn't prioritize interviews or social affairs that much, making this a one shot for my roommate, Kate.

Damn Kate and her flu. After all, it should be her here sitting in her Mercedes, struggling with her hair.

I give up, sinking further into my seat. The rows of cars accumulate as the traffic engorges. It's not even 2 pm. Why do big cities have to have this problem? Funny enough, it seems to get worse for me when I need to be somewhere in time.

The watch in my wrist reads 1:42 pm. Thank God. There is still hope for punctuality in this case.

Frankly, I just wish I could leave my car here and cross the road towards the gigantic building on my left. It twists into some capricious modern architecture work of art. Its exterior immediately giving away the profit this company makes.

I sigh heavily, scowling at the lack of movement. The red light is still on as an impressive flow of people are crossing the avenue.

_Beep beep._

I jump in my seat at the sound of my phone's alert. I retrieve it clumsily from my satchel.

It's Kate: 'Don't screw it up! You can do it!'

A smile comes to my lips. Let's hope all goes smoothly. I have a long week ahead of me in preparation for my exams.

The shrieking sound of car horns comes to my hears and I flinch again, pressing the accelerator pedal as I place my phone on the seat, not looking ahead. Not even half a second later, I feel my car run into something, and I break the movement abruptly.

Oh my God! I've run over someone!

Cars are continuously beeping behind me, as I immediately exit the Mercedes to search for the victim. This can't be happening.

There is a young man sitting on the zebra cross, and I thank the heavens for not having killed him.

Panic takes a hold on me as he stands up. I tried approaching him to help him in the process, but I'm rooted in my spot. There is an open briefcase by his side with some papers fly away with the wind.

"Do you need glasses?" He hisses at me, adjusting his suit. At least he doesn't look hurt.

"I-I'm so, so sorry, sir," I can't even find the right words with the amount of people gathering around and some furious drivers protesting, blaming my driving skills. "Are you hurt? I can take you to the hospital."

Once he finishes collecting the runaway pieces of paper and shoving them inside the briefcase, he looks at me. Whatever anger he has felt is either masked or it vanishes when his eyes lay on mine. He's probably in shock from what has just happened.

"I can-"

He interrupts my attempt at speaking, pulling me close to the vehicle. "Enter your car."

"Wai-_what?_"

"Now."

Without wasting another second, he shoves me inside Kate's car. He then mimics me and takes the passenger seat.

"Do you want to go to the hospital, sir?" My head is racing so fast, that I think I'm incapable of rational thought right now.

"Just park the car on the roadside," he says, not looking at me. "There are people trying to get through."

"Oh."

With all this sudden confusion, I almost forget that I'm still in their way. To say that I'm nervous is an understatement. I'm terrified of what just happened.

I'm now so afraid to drive, that it took me ten seconds to concentrate on parking it by the sidewalk.

Now I'm trembling. How did this happen? I was just putting my phone away. Those freaking horns scared me to death and my reflex was to press the pedal.

I glance up at my victim, realizing he's staring at me as well. This time, I _really_ look. Isn't this the most cliche scene ever? I run over some pretty handsome young man and we're staring at each other for no reason. All that's missing is the 'and they are now in love'. Oh, for heaven's sake, Ana! You almost killed the man!

"I can take you to the hospital."

I don't think he's upset at all or even considering that idea. If anything, he's amused. "There's no need, Miss..."

He trails off hinting me to answer. I smile mildly, unsure how to react to this. "Anastasia Steele."

If running over someone isn't bad enough, the way I'm looking at him surely makes up for it. I just think I've never seen such a man. Such charm. A strand of dark copper hair falls on his forehead, and I know he notices my abusive stare since he brings a hand to fix it.

He must be a business man or a lawyer, judging from the way his suit reflects luxury.

Then I see blood trailing off his right hand. Two horizontal scratches come in sight and I involuntarily squeal. "There's blood in your hand!"

He looks casually at it, not looking too worried. For someone whose life has just been threatened moments ago, he doesn't seem to think much of it.

I promptly fetch him a tissue from my satchel, and I watch him wrap it around the injury, with his gray eyes sill on me.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" I ask nervously.

He finally breaks his intense stare to look at his wrapped hand. "I think I can handle a few scratches, Miss Steele."

I'm still not sure how something like this happened. Okay, I'm not the best driver out there, but I've never done anything like this before. Not in the slightest.

Another glance at my watch warns me that I have little more than ten minutes before the meeting.

Doing my best not to sound as if I'm trying to get rid of him, I clear my throat. "If you don't want me to take you to the hospital, do you mind if I drop you here? I still have to park the car."

He shows interest now. "Where are you headed to?"

"Oh, there," I point at the building to my left. "I have an interview to do."

I can swear I see something in his eyes as he looks at the building. He then speaks. "What a coincidence, Miss Steele. I work there."

"Really?" This is a coincidence indeed. Of all the people I could meet, it had to be someone employed there.

He nods. "Who are you interviewing?"

"The CEO," I answer, now definitely seeing his eyes wide slightly. "Christian Grey."

He brings one of his hands to pinch the bridge of his nose, leaving me confused at what this means. Maybe he didn't like the man. I decide to ask. "Do you know him well?"

Then he stares back at me. "I work pretty closely to him. So, yes. You might say that."

Well, now that he says that I may just take advantage of this to gather some information.

I duck my head slightly, "Well, is he a nice man?"

"You're interviewing a man you don't know?" He laughs.

I frown at him. "I wasn't suppose to be the one conducting the interview. My friend was."

He straightens in his seat, all too amused to even hide it. "And who is your friend?"

"Kate Kavanagh," I say, hoping he stops smiling like that. I can't bring myself to join two words together with an attractive man behaving like that. "She couldn't make it today, so she asked me to. Apparently, rescheduling would take an awful amount of time on Mr. Grey's behalf."

He nods, more serious this time. "That is correct. He doesn't have much patience for nosy interviewers."

This doesn't help my nerves to settle. "What do you mean?"

"He's a terrifying man, Miss Steele. A man that hates having his time wasted," He reinforces his statement. "Are you here to waste his time?"

"No!" I say quickly. That Mr. Grey surely fits under the arrogant business man category. Those who live in their little world and don't fancy mixing with those below them. Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think so.

He shoots a questioning look at me, doubting my denial. "It depends on the questions, actually."

"Yes," I agree. Not that it has anything to do with me. I haven't even seen them yet. "I'm just a vessel, really. I didn't formulate them, but I don't think Kate would aim to waste his time."

He studies me for a brief moment. "Tell me one of the questions. I'll give you an opinion."

At first, I hesitate. I don't know who this man is, but he's surely aware of the effect he has on me as I clumsily search for the questions in my satchel.

"To what do you owe your success?"

The man before me twists his mouth as if saying 'not a good idea'. "He won't like that one."

Now I'm lost. What am I supposed to do? He has agreed to this interview. I stutter. "But he'll answer, right?"

"Oh, he'll answer," he assures me, a faint smile dancing on his lips. "Maybe not the answer you want to hear. Or rather... your friend."

I run the fingers along the list, looking briefly at them. They seem pretty business-oriented, save for one or two. I hope he doesn't see any offense in them.

As much as being close to this man makes me feel strange sensations, I have to go. "Well, thank you for the heads up, but I really have to go."

"We're going to the same place, Miss Steele," he says.

Seeing that I don't give into his attempt right away, he speaks again, running a finger across his jaw. "It's the least you can do after almost ripping me in half."

My eyes follow his digit's trail, giving me some goosebumps on the way. "S-sure."

He's right. It's the least I can do.

I start the car, heading towards the building's underground parking lot. I stop to fetch the parking ticket and resume my search for a spot. It should be easy to find one.

Or not.

The whole parking area is crowded. What the hell?

I stop the car again, and look at him, waiting for some sort of feedback. "Is it always like this?"

He laughs at my reaction. "Of course, Miss Steele."

"Umm, I'm not sure I can find one," I confess, driving along the rows of the pavement.

He then points a finger at the far end. "There's one."

I lean in slightly over the wheel, trying to spot where he's pointing. The only thing I see is a sign on the wall 'Reserved for management (CEO)'. I'm not sure that's what he means, but I drive there nonetheless.

There are two empty slots there. Why would the man need two?

"But these are for Mr. Grey," I muse, confused.

"I guarantee you there's no problem," he says, giving me permission to carry on. "It's only for a while."

We both get out of the car. He comes to me, offering a hand. "No hard feeling about before, Miss Steele."

I take in his and for a warm handshake. An electrifying shot flows across my body as his grip slightly tightens.

"I'm really sorry for before," I say again, lost in words.

We part and he brings another smile to his face. "Like I said, no hard feelings."

He starts walking towards a tall glass door, until I shout. "Hey, you never told me your name."

He halts his steps and half turns to me. "Christian Grey, Miss Steele," he says playfully. "Pleasure to meet you."

My jaw drops.


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm overwhelmed with the feedback I got! Not expecting at all!  
**

**Onto the second chapter, then.**

* * *

_"If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude." M. Angelou_

* * *

I could have stayed behind to spare myself the humiliation of having to walk inside the colossal building with its owner by my side. However, I felt utterly hurt for what he has done to me back there. What if I had said something bad about him? 'I'm interviewing that selfish rich man you work fore. How amazing'. Not that I'd ever say something like that to a person I _thought _worked for him.

So here I am, standing beside Mr. Grey, on our way to the elevators.

"Why did you do that?"

He puts on a feigned thoughtful face. "I've had a stressful day, Miss Steele. Just needed a laugh."

"At my expense?" I ask, bemused at his honesty.

A beep indicates the elevator has arrived. The doors open and he gets inside. I pause for a moment. Maybe I should just stay here for a second, and try to get all of my outrage to elope.

But no, I find my feet contradict my mind only to find myself inside elevator as well.

"Don't take it personally, Miss Steele," He says, retrieving the tissue from his hand to take a look at his wound. Then he presses the twentieth floor. "We all have bad days."

That's it? The nerves I have previously felt from having to interview such an important man dissolve into a scowl I don't bother to hide.

"Why didn't you seize the moment to say nice things about yourself?" I ask, too harshly. No more stuttering this time. "You called yourself a terrifying person."

His amused look spreads. "That's a bad thing?"

We've reached the second floor. Why is it taking so long to get there?

"Maybe not to you," I return to my previous calm tone. "I thought I'd be facing someone with a bad temper."

His gaze now wanders from my face to the full length of my body. Unfortunately, that is enough to set me to an unnerving state again. I want to be mad at him for laughing at me. For using me, but his condescending stare and the fact I've only minutes ago threatened his life, make it harder to be properly mad.

Which makes me mad. Incoherent has that may sound.

"You've run over me. It's only fair I'd get something back," he remarks, a single finger stroking his chin, like he has previously done, gathering my attention to that motion. _Again_. "Don't you think, Miss Steele?"

Fifth floor...

"I don't think that's an excuse for playing tricks on me," I say, truthfully.

He inhales deeply, shoulders stiff. "You're overreacting, Miss Steele."

"And you've lied to me."

He snaps his head to me, and just stands there with his eyes locked on mine. Seriously. Does he do this to everyone he just meets? Is this his way of saying 'the conversation is over'? Because it's working.

The doors slide open on the tenth floor and two men walk in, greeting him.

We've fallen into a disturbing silence, only our stares keeping us connected.

Another beep and we're at the thirteenth floor. The two men storm out, allowing the doors to shut.

I'm pretty sure he's closer to me now.

"It was an accident," I blurt out, not even realizing the words leave my mouth until his stare twists into a questioning one.

"With the car. An accident."

He tilts his head, slightly moving away from me. "Well, I think you'd be sitting in the police station if you had made a serious attempt on my life."

I'm serious now. "I just think you could have told me who we were."

"Why?" he snaps, suddenly harsh enough to make me jolt. "Would your speech be any different?"

"It might, yes."

Seventeenth floor.

"I'm glad to know that, Miss Steele," he says unconvincingly.

Maybe I've just gone too far. I know I'm overreacting. I just didn't expect him to bluntly admit it to my face.

Now we're on the twentieth floor. He jerks his hands, allowing me to exit the elevator first. All is going well until I trip on a carpet by the entrance. I hit the ground with a loud bump. unexpected tears come to my eyes as my elbow hits the ground. I hear it snap.

He kneels beside me, helping me stand. I try to wash the tears away, but I fail as I see him looking at me, clearly worried.

"Are you okay, Miss Steele?"

I want to say yes, but a stinging pain in my left elbow prevents me from doing so. Tears of pain stream down my cheeks.

"You're hurt." It isn't a question. I'm able to remove my coat with his help. There's blood coming out of it. Why am I so uncoordinated?

I just realize there is a blonde woman standing beside us. "Andrea, call Taylor. I need him now. We have to go to the hospital."

My eyes widen slightly with stress. I take my injured arm into the other. "No. It's just a scratch."

That doesn't make him believe me in the slightest. "I'm sure it's broken, Miss Steele."

I cannot contest that. The throbbing pain intensifying with each second that passes by.

He wraps my coat around my arm. "Don't move it. Keep it still."

A few seconds after, a man appears from behind the elevator's doors. A tall, muscular man comes out. "What happened?"

Christian gives a long sigh. "Take her to the hospital. I'll meet you there."

Oh no.

Kate will kill me.


	3. Chapter 3

**As always, thank you ALL for the support! You have no idea the pleasure it gives me to see your feedback! And it's inspiring! ;)**

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_"A woman is like a tea bag; you never know how strong she is until she is in hot water." E. Roosevelt_

* * *

Hospital scene

It turns out my condition isn't as severe as I had expected. After an X-ray and some fancy doctor checking on me, they've come to the conclusion that I have nothing broken. Just a strain on one of my muscles that should resolve itself with severe rest and immobilization of my left arm. Thank God it's the left one.

Not to mention that I still have to figure out how my insurance will cover this expensive hospital that Taylor has brought me in. He told me not to worry. Well, sure. Will he pay?

And then there's Kate and her car which is still at Grey Enterprises Holdings parking lot. But the first problem on my mind is not her car or my injured limb.

It's the interview. How would I possibly arrange her a reschedule?

After one hour by myself with only Taylor who will occasionally approach me and ask how I am, Christian arrives at the Emergency Room where I'm at.

As always, he looks impeccable, with a warm smile. "How are you, Miss Steele? Taylor told me it's not broken. Sorry for having you alarmed."

"No problem," I tell him honestly.

He takes off his jacket and sits beside my chair. "Don't worry about the bills."

I'm not sure I've heard correctly. "What do-"

"I'll handle it," he interrupts me, probably guessing I'd complain. "Everything is taken care of."

I blink once. Then twice. Then my heart accelerates. "There's no need, Mr. Grey."

"Christian," he rectifies me. "After the today's events, I think we can address each other differently, don't you think, Anastasia?"

Damn him. Damn his alluring deep voice that even in my depressing condition find a way to set me on edge. I really don't know what to say since he's literally left me speechless. Why was he doing this for me? Me, a normal young girl that has done nothing but get him into trouble in one day.

"What about Kate?" I suddenly ask, nerves getting a hold of me again. "Her car is still parked there, and then there's the interview."

He has his eyes fixed on me, dancing with amusement. "She has called the office and my assistant told her you were at the hospital. The funny things is that she immediately asked if you had tripped."

I scowl. Damn Kate. "What did she say?"

"Well, at that point I was the one speaking to her," he says, straightening the jacket folded in his arms. "I told her politely that it was the carpet's fault. It was in the way."

I don't know how he does this, but I can't help but to smile at his response.

And then he speaks again, with a reassuring tone. "Don't worry, I've guaranteed she'll have her interview. After all, this is not your fault."

Oh, I'm beginning to doubt that. First _I_ run over him and then _I_ trip. It's possibly my fault, yes. However, he's just being a gentleman.

"I can't thank you enough," I manage to say, truly overwhelmed. "You didn't have to."

Another one of those amazing glares. "I wanted to."

As if to spoil the moment, a loud Kate appears all of a sudden. "Ana! Are you okay?"

Christian immediately rises to his feet, polite as ever, extending an hand to greet Kate. She just stands there, probably surprised he even bothered to even stand for her. Their hands shake and then Christian turn to me, smiling. "I'll give you two a moment."

He disappears from behind the curtains, and Kate looks at me with an accusing tone. "What the hell happened?"

"I'm fine, Kate," I say, smiling softly.

She then takes the seat beside me. Her face is still reddened from the flu, but make up can do wonders. However, her voice is still raspy. "You and your clumsiness," she groans. "And why is Christian Grey even here? Did he fall too?"

I shake my head. "I don't even know. He's been very gentle to me."

She raises a brow. "Clearly."

Something weird in her voice alarms me. "What?"

"He'll reschedule the interview, but insists that you're the one doing it."

What?! Is he out of his mind? This is Kate's interview! I sensed her temper from a mile away. She has every right to be mad at the situation.

"Me? But I was just your replacement," I say in shock. "Did you tell him that?"

"Of course, Ana! He insists."

There's no way I'm going along with this. No way.

"I'll talk to him."

Kate stands up. "What for? Ana, you may be a cave woman when it comes to men like him, but I know what this means."

Now it's my time quirk a brow. "What do you mean?"

"He probably sees something in you he likes and this is his way of reacting," she says, as if pitying me. "He has offered to pay the bills, right?"

I nod.

"Of course."

I thought this day was done with my nerves, but I was wrong.

"Just call him back here," I ask her. Kate is hurt. I know. "I'll take care of this."

Kate doesn't even need to be told twice and disappears, giving room for him to enter. "Feeling better?"

"No!" I tell him, not being able to contain my anger. "It's Kate's interview! I'm not doing it."

He looks at me, quite surprise at my outburst. "Well, you were meant to do it today, right? Beside, we already know each other."

"I don't care," I tell him, calming down. "It has to be her."

And then I see his face twist into a colder pose. "AS you wish, _Miss Steele_."

Ah. So, it's Miss Steele again?

Not wanting to leave things like this, I soothe my voice. "I'm sorry for having caused so many troubles today."

His frigid stare is impassive. "Trust me, Miss Steele. Of all the things that have happened to me today, you are far from being the trouble."

Then he's gone just like that.

"Let's go home," Kate reappears, with my belongings. "A taxi will take us to Grey Enterprises so I can pick up my car."

Shit.

* * *

**- Friday. Three days later -**

I wake up from the pain that persists digging into my elbow. Today should be a relatively calm day since I have all the time in the world to get back on my studies. I have a lot of reading to do, and it's already ten in the morning.

I head to the kitchen, almost calling out for Kate. Then I remember. She's not home. The interview had been scheduled for today at nine. I just hope he stands up to her expectations.

The fact that he had wanted me to replace her has set a strange mood between us which is a rare thing to happen. Maybe she's still hurt, even though she knows I did nothing to make him show his preference for me.

A lazy yawn crosses me as I pour some milk into a cup. Then something else catches my attention. Kate has baked some cookies. That would be the perfect mixture for the studying I have ahead of me.

I fetch the pain pills and swallow one with some water. These past days have proved too painful at times. Sure, the pain eases with the pills, but I always wake up from it which leaves me slightly grumpy.

With a cookie in my mouth, a book and my glass of milk, I make my way to the table in the living room.

I set everything ready for the session when I hear the front door crack open. It must be Kate.

A very well dressed Kate steps into the room. Unlike my choice of clothes the other day, hers are vastly more professional; a black pencil skirt with a matching blazer; she's wearing discrete make up and her blonde hair is tied up in a perfect bun.

"How did it go?" I ask expectantly.

She places her briefcase by the couch and sinks in. "Well, I guess."

Something is off. Kate would be singing and clapping for finally getting this done. However...

"I mean, I have no idea," she finally admits, kicking off her black kitten heels.

At least she doesn't seem mad at _me_. I stuff another cookie in my mouth and ask her with a muffled voice. "What happened?"

"Well, he was polite and receptive," Kate begins in a rather distressed tone. I _knew _something is up. "Until he wasn't."

"What?" I ask confused, sipping on my milk.

Kate sets her hair free and brushes her fingers through it, before burying her face in the palms of her hands. "He received a call and after that he started being evasive to my questions. I have two or three of them with only three to fours words as an answer."

I can't help but to feel guilty. Has he done this on purpose? "Did you tell him that?"

"Of course!" She then snaps her head at me as if I've just made an obvious question. "But that was it. He wouldn't add anything else."

"And he was fine in the beginning?"

"Yes! Very talkative," Kate nods. "I think it was a woman."

Wait, wait. A woman? "Why do you say that?"

"I could hear the pitched voice. He was pretty angry at her. I heard him tell her to leave him alone."

"Do you think he's being harassed?"

She stands up, picking up her briefcase along with her shoes. "No idea. But he seemed pretty upset. I wish I could strangle the woman. She pretty much fucked the rest of my interview."

A shiver runs down my spine. The thought of a powerful man like him being harassed is alarming. "Do you think you can pull it off with what you have?"

"I hope so," Kate muses, a slight frown on her face. "After all, many people from college are waiting for this. I mean, what did I expect? He has the reputation of avoiding interviews. Why would he behave with a young inexperienced girl like me?"

That seems unlikely. He had committed to it and, on top of that, he seems a man that keeps his word.

"Earth to Ana?" Kate is waving a hand at me, snapping me from my thoughts. "Did you hear what I just said?"

"Um?"

"He asked me for your contact."

"Wait, why?" I immediately asked her nervously.

She shrugs, inspecting her nails. "No idea. I gave him your email."

"Kate, I barely use it," I say. "Why not my phone number?"

"He wanted your email," Kate informs me, and then turns around. "I'll be in my room, sorting this out."

Before she disappears, I call her. "Hey, can I just check something in your computer? I need to search some things about this book I'm reading."

"Sure, but don't take long. I need it."

"Okay."

As fast as I could walk without her suspecting my true intentions, I enter her room, turning the computer on.

I have no idea why I'm all flustered from something so casual as this. After all, I barely use my email. I prefer having things in my hands.

When I finally get to the email authentication page I halt for a moment. Let's see if I still rememeber my password.

My first attempts are total failures and I begin to stir in my chair. What if I can't access it?

After a few more attempts, I get it right.

Besides the spam messages there, there is one highlighted and sent just fifteen minutes ago.

Oh my.


	4. Chapter 4

**Enjoy!**

**As always, thank you for the support. You are the best!**

* * *

_"How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who insists on treating her as if she were a perfectly normal human being?" O. Wilde_

* * *

_**From:** Christian Grey_

_**Subject:** Dinner_

_**Date:** 12 October 2009 09:47_

_**To:** Anastasia Steele_

_ Miss Steele,__  
_

_after our last encounter at the Hospital I feel like we left things a bit too cold between us. I would really enjoy if you'd accept my invitation to a dinner at Canlis tomorrow night at 8 pm. _

_I hope we can sort this out the best way,_

_Christian Grey_

_CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc._

* * *

Is he serious? Canlis is one of the most expensive restaurants in Seattle. I know he can afford it, but that is too much generosity coming from a person who four days ago didn't even know I existed. First he pays my medical expenses and now he offers a dinner at _that_ restaurant.

Deep inside I know what this is about. As opposed to what Kate thinks, I've read enough books and seen enough movies to know the only reason a man is acting like this towards a woman he barely knows.

Interest. And not certainly the sort of interest in being just friends.

This thought gives me goosebumps. I've never actually had a man being so bold in his attempts. Somehow, all of this seems exclusive and a one way ticket to a place I may regret ever visiting.

Yes, next to Kate I'm worse than a novice when it comes to male behavior. She reads their intentions perfectly, while I just sit there trying to figure out what a 'Are you okay?' really means.

However, this time it's different. My heart pounds in my chest aggressively even after reading his words. Why would a man that can have an woman in the world be wasting his time with me? A clumsy college student that apparently runs over people on her free time and almost breaks her arm when things are getting serious.

I sit back on Kate's chair and just look at the screen, wondering what I should respond.

My heart tells me to say 'Yes!', but my mind is begging me to be reasonable. I read the e-mail over and over again until I'm sure I've memorized its every word.

I'm just sitting there, biting my thumb, considering whether or not I should even answer him. I can always pretend I didn't receive anything from him.

No. He'd figure it out.

A loud shriek shakes me off my thoughts, making me jump in the chair.

"Holy fuck!" Kate gasps, looking at the computer screen, mouth hanging open. "You've got to be kidding me, Anastasia Steele!"

I look at her, wanting to ask her for help in this matter, but she already knows that. "I told you he wanted something from you, Ana!"

"I don't know if I should go," I muse as she leans in to read.

"Are you kidding me?" Her voice is still too loud. "Of course you should!"

Kate's response eased my mind's struggle against me. If Kate approves, then it can't be that bad, right?

"I just find it odd that he'd send an e-mail," I confess, running a hand across my flushed cheeks.

Kate straightens and looks at me. "So what? He's not your usual guy. You _have _to go! I need a favor from you."

Ah. Her statement leaves me with a frown. "Really, Kate?"

She goes down on her needs, and grabs my healthy arm pleadingly. "There are two questions I need the answer to. How I am I suppose to write two-word responses in the newspaper? Everyone will think I'm a mediocre journalist, Ana."

I shouldn't be surprised that she's asking this of me. Kate needs to make a good impression by editing this article.

I sigh heavily. "Which questions?"

She immediately gets to her feet and does a little dance around her room, truly happy. After a few seconds of me just staring at a wild Kate, she finally calms down and sits on her bed, looking at me expectantly. "Two easy questions: what he does on his free time and if his job affects his personal life."

Typical Kate. "What did he answer to those?"

"Maybe and he didn't even say anything in the last one," Kate says.

"Well, I guess you already have the answer to the last one," I tell her truthfully. Yes, he's a hard-working man, but no one can be so work-obsessed to completely neglect private matters.

She rolls her eyes. "I'm not going to write 'Oh, he's going out with my roommate. So, yeah, his job doesn't affect him'," Kate dramatizes. "Look, you don't have to ask this as if you were in an interview. Just ask casually."

One day I'll find out how Kate has this incredible power of convincing me to this incridibly unconfortoubable situations.

I pull the chair forward so I can get my hands on the keyboard. "What should I write?"

Kate shrugs, going through some sheets on her lap. "Just say yes. Don't complicate and don't overthink. Guys don't care."

ANother typical Kate response. I hit the button 'Reply' and stare at blinking cursor in the blank page. I'm not just replying 'Yes'. That doesn't seem right at all.

With a final sigh, I bring myself to write it. Key after key and word after word, I believe I have the adequate answer.

"Kate, come here."

* * *

_**From:** Anastasia Steele_

_**Subject:** Dinner_

_**Date:** 12 October 2009 10:30_

_**To:** Christian Grey_

_Mr. Grey,__  
_

_I hereby thank you for your unexpected invitation. I accept._

_8 pm sharp._

_Anastasia Steele_

* * *

Kate grunts. "Why do you have to write like that? You're not talking to the President of the United States, Ana. It's an informal reply."

A scowl comes to my face. "I like to be polite. And I still don't know him that well to just write quick responses."

She pushes me off the chair and takes my place. "You're complicating things, Ana. As always."

With incredible speed, she rewrites an entire new paragraph.

* * *

_**From:** Anastasia Steele_

_**Subject:** Dinner_

_**Date:** 12 October 2009 10:32_

_**To:** Christian Grey_

_Mr. Grey,__  
_

_Thank you for the invitation. My answer is yes, obviously._

_With love, _

_Anastasia Steele_

* * *

"No!" I immediately protest. Is she out of her mind? This may not be a formal thing, but there's no way I'm going to include the word 'love' there.

I try to get to the keyboard, but she grabs my left arm, making me wince in pain.

"Okay, so my answer is probably too cheeky," Kate admits, deleting what she has just written. "Maybe just answer 'yes' and you should be good, right?"

Now we're both over-thinking. "Let me write it please, Kate," I ask, pushing her off the chair. "I know what to write."

However, Kate doesn't give up on this attempt to annoy me that easily. She grabs the keyboard and randomly presses some keys. When I look at the screen, I almost scream.

* * *

_**From:** Anastasia Steele_

_**Subject:** Dinner_

_**Date:** 12 October 2009 10:34_

_**To:** Christian Grey_

_Mr. Grey,__  
_

_yes!_

_Anastasia Steele_

* * *

"Kate!"

"This should be fun," she grins widely at me, catching me off guard and pressing the 'send' button.

"Kate! What the fuck!" I shout at her. I've never lashed out at her like this. This is unacceptable. "Why did you do _that_?"_  
_

Not a shred of remorse shows in her face. "Easy, Ana. He'll find this funny."

"Or crazy," I answer, sinking to her bed, covering my face with her pillow. My muffled voice comes out. "I hate you, Kate."

Kate stretches her arms, yawning. "I'll just take a shower. Keep an eye out for his answer."

I'm just lying there, clutching onto her pillow and staring at the blank ceiling. He'll think I've been expecting this e-mail. Or that I'm desperate. Either way, I don't think I want to see his answer. He'll probably call it all off scared that my reply was this cheerful.

No one reacts like this.

"Fuck this," I groan, throwing the soft material to the far end of the room. Once again, I sit in front of the computer, waiting for something to happen.

Ten minutes pass and still no answer. I knew it.

Kate fucked this up, and there is nothing I can do to mend it.

I rock the chair anxiously back and forth, occasionally glancing at the screen. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. There's no way he'll think I'm desperate, right?

Right?

A beep comes from the computer, alerting me to a new e-mail.

_Oh God_.

I hover the cursor where it says 'Dinner', heart racing inside me as if I'm about to check a grade on my exam. With one quick click, I see his response.

* * *

_**From:** Christian Grey_

_**Subject:** Dinner_

_**Date:** 12 October 2009 10:47_

_**To:** Anastasia Steele_

_Miss Steele,__  
_

_I expected a more elaborate answer. That seems very vague._

_Will you want me to pick you up at 7.30 pm?_

_Christian Grey_

_CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc._

* * *

Thank you so much, Katherine.

I don't even realize my hands are shaking until I try to write something. The sudden realization that a wealthy businessman is focusing some of his attention on me. During a few minutes, he's thinking of me.

Before Kate gets the chance to return, I come up with something simple to say.

* * *

_**From:** Anastasia Steele_

_**Subject:** Dinner_

_**Date:** 12 October 2009 10:50_

_**To:** Christian Grey_

_Mr. Grey,__  
_

_I apologize. It turns out I'm not very good with these technologies and ended up deleting part of my e-mail._

_There is no need. I'll get there by myself._

_Anastasia Steele_

* * *

Maybe a bit too cold, but I have to make up for the previous reply.

A few second after, Kate walks in, towel wrapped around her hair and body. "Has he replied yet?"

I shake my head. "No. Not yet."

"I hope I haven't screwed this up for you," she stares at me, suddenly horrified. "_Oh no_."

She doesn't need to know everything that goes on in my life. I don't know about every guy she goes out with or whatever she answers them. So why should I let her be in command? Why can't I be the one in charge of my own relationships?

I sign out my e-mail account, and pace towards the door. Then I turn to her, feigning sadness."I guess we'll have to wait until tomorrow, then."

* * *

**- Next day. 7.15 pm -**

"I'm not wearing that, Kate," I complain, when she hands me a tight dress that has a far from modest cleavage. "I'll look vulgar."

Kate's eyes shot furiously at me. "Thanks, Ana."

Many of her dresses are way too elaborate. If it were up to me, I'd go with a shirt and jeans. I place the piece of cloth on her bed. "There's no need to dress up like that. Some jean-"

"Don't even think about it, Ana!" Kate cuts me off. Then she grabs a black one that at least isn't improper and I can actually see myself wearing that. "This one is not as gaudy."

It's perfectly adequate, actually.

"Try it on."

At this point, I'm only on my underwear since the last hour has been spent dressing and undressing some of her formal clothes. Kate help me fix the dress as I pull it up. It's not too tight, but not saggy either. It falls short a bit a above my knees, and only the back of it is cut open, revealing my incredibly pale skin.

I approach the tall mirror in her room.

Wow. I don't even look like myself.

"This is too much, right?" I ask her, afraid this will somehow label this dinner as an official date.

Kate waves a hand dismissively. "It's fine. But we'll have to do something about that hair of yours."

I look at my hair through the reflection. As always, it's a wild mess. Not even a magic comb would tame it.

"Nothing too fancy, though," I ask her, already establishing limits.

"Just sit."

I do as ordered and sit in her chair, relaxing my body inside the dress. She spends some minutes pulling hair up and down, until she comes up with a very neat bun that only allows for some bangs to fall either side of my face, framing it.

The doorbell goes off.

"I'll see who it is," Kate storms out of the room, leaving me to examine the work she's done. I can't help but to think this is still a bit _too_ much for such an occasion.

I hear some voices in the corridor, and then silence.

Kate returns, and I turn to look at her.

"Your date is at the door," she grins, clearly enjoying this.

What? How did he know where I live? After my last e-mail reply, he didn't answer again, which led me to believe we'd meet at the restaurant.

Kate grabbed one of her ankle-stripped sandals. "Put them on! Go greet him."

I begin panicking, trying to coordinate my hands to lace the shoes. "Did you tell him where we live?"

"No," Kate says, too excited to bother. "Who cares?"

Well, I do. It's just... strange.

She rushes me out of the room, only increasing my jitters. I walk along the hall to open the door.

He's dressed in a very expensive-looking black tux with a matching tie. He roams his eyes along my body, a smile lifting his lips faintly. Does he really have to look at me like that?

"Good evening, Anastasia. You look... _very_ nice," he compliments, taking my hand into his to peck it.

The feel of his loft lips on my skin send jolts of unclassified feeling throughout my body. My eyes linger on his lips. I want to demand how he found out where to find me, but his grip on my hand prevents me from rational thought.

"Shall we?" He asks, obviously amused.

I'm pretty sure I've gone mute.


	5. Chapter 5

_*****I've edited this chapter. I found myself reading it, and not liking Ana's sudden cowardice. Things will be slightly different, but hopefully, more interesting. Thanks to the guest review warning me about Pinot Noir being served in room temperature! ;)*******_

**About THIS chapter: Canlis is a very well known restaurant by Lake Union in Seattle (yes, I may be from the UK, but I do my research :p). All the things that will appear regarding this restaurant will be as close to the actual as possible. I even have their menu (woooooot), and will order from there ;)**

**Last but not least, visit my Pinterest and Facebook for juicy contents regarding my stories!**

* * *

_"Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction." A. Saint-Exupery (one of my favorite quotes)_

* * *

In just a week I find myself travelling to Seattle twice just because of one single man. Christian Grey. I'm not complaining, really. But as I gaze out of the Audi's Quattro SUV darkened window, I now know I'm getting more than I bargained for.

As the suns sets behind the tall skyscrapers, the ambiance between me and Christian thickens. We're both in the backseat as Taylor drives us to Canlis. I can feel him looking at me even though I try my best to feign interest in the metropolitan view before me. My hands fidget relentlessly on my lap. Luckily, my satchel is covering them.

Of course, I doubt his impossibility to see my hands would prevent him from guessing how nervous I am. Honestly, I don't care. His demeaning presence affects me, and there is nothing I can do to change that.

A few more minutes go by, and Taylor leaves us near a flat ceiling building that certainly has a modern ring to it. The several lights placed strategically outside it give the impression that this is indeed a very special place.

"Mr. Grey, as soon as you're done, let me know," Taylor speaks through the open window and he nods.

An awkward silence falls between us, until he finally takes the lead. He does that a lot, apparently. "Shall we, Ana?"

I nod, trying to ignore my legs jello-like state, and walk beside him slowly. Unsure of what to do with my hands I just place them before me, grabbing my satchel. We're not supposed to hold hands, right?

As soon as we enter, a tall man in a black standard suit comes to greet us. "Welcome to Canlis again, Mr. Grey."

Oh. He's been here before. They both shake hands, and then the man turns to me, very politely. "And Miss.."

"Anastasia Steele," I answer, dumbfounded at this level of courtesy.

"Miss Steele, I take it it's your first time here. I'd remember that face."

I give him a modest smile, and Christian takes a hold of my hand, rather quickly. "Where is our table, Levin?"

"Table thirty, Mr. Grey," he says, bowing his head slightly. A young man appears this time, equally dressed. "Ronald will show you to your tables. I hope you enjoy your dinner."

We both thank him, and Christian is still holding my hand, guiding me behind the waiter. First impressions? This is truly overwhelming. There are no walls in front of us. The whole room is filled with floor-to-ceiling windows, giving us an ample view over Lake Union.

And what a view that is. Everything either glistens or sparkles, and parallel rows of ceiling lamps give the enormous room a dim light. A piano is placed at the center, inviting in a more romantic scene.

"Here it is, Mr. Grey," the young man smiles, extending his arm for me to sit first. Oh, crap. This _is_ the real deal.

As we both sit, he speaks again. "I'll bring your menus right away."

Christian is looking at me, amused. "Never been to a restaurant like this?"

I shake my head. Our dinner table is simple, yet very classy. Two sets of glasses - one definitely meant for water and the other for wine; the napkin is folded into a fan-like shape placed on the table, framed by two forks, and one knife with the spoon beside it. This is an obvious upgrade from my usual sloppy meals on the couch with Kate. There is even a jar with some yellow flowers placed at the center.

"Do you like it?" He asks simply.

"Very... classy," I almost said 'luxurious', but I don't want to label things already.

"I come here a lot. Amazing food with matching scenario," he's referring to the glistening waters of the lake just to our right.

The tables neighboring us are mostly vacant, but I reckon more people will come in.

"How is your arm?" He ask, attentively.

"Better. I guess it was all a big mess, but in the end nothing too problematic."

His lips lift again. "Good to know, Ana."

The waiter appears again with two menus in hand, promptly giving it to us. "Do you wish to see our wine list, sir?"

"There's no need. I'll have a bottle of Pinot Noir," he turn his head to me. "Do you like red wine, Ana?"

Not my absolute favorite, but since I don't have a wide experience with wines, I nod.

"One bottle it is, sir."

The waiter vanishes to another table, leaving us alone again. I look at the menu in my hands, and almost let out a squeal when I look at the prices. Christian obviously notices my uncomfortable attitude.

"Don't worry about the prices. I can afford."

I know he can, I just think this is _too_ much. Maybe pizza and coke would have been a better choice. I let my eyes roam down the list, and, if not for the descriptions, I would have no idea what these names mean. All very french-like.

"I would like to try the prawns as the first course," I admit, reading the alluring description: _"Peter Canlis prawns: dry vermouth, garlic, and lime"._

"That's a good choice. I think I'll join you."

"Ready to order?"

I jump in my seat as the waiter appears out of nowhere, almost making me drop the menu on the floor. A dark bottle with a red label 'Pinot Noir' is being open in the meantime.

"Just the first course," Christian says, lifting my wine glass so the waiter can pour the liquid inside. He then repeats the process with his own glass. "The prawns."

The young man quickly writes it down. "And as for the main course, have you decided?"

"No. Not yet."

"Excuse me," he bows his head, pacing away.

"Try it," Christian gestures to my glass, taking his to his lips.

I do as suggested, and take a sip. The bittersweet taste slipping down my throat. Certainly something I have never tasted before. Unlike Kate, my passion for wines is extremely dull, but I might just change my mind about that.

"It's very good," I admit.

He only smiles at me, gray eyes flicking with satisfaction.

I shift my attention to the menu again. After a few seconds pretending that I actually understand these names, I ask. "What will you have?"

His own eyes lift to meet mine. "The lamb, probably. You?"

"Um... maybe the Filet Mignon."

"They serve it in small pieces," He informs me, "Do you want one more course?"

"Oh, no," I immediately refuse. "I'm not very hungry."

One lean brow quirks at this, and I can read the conclusion he's drawing.

"I'm really not. It's not about the price."

The same brow eases as he speaks again. "Just making sure, Ana."

"May I address you by your given name?" I ask him at once.

"Only those closest to me do so," he simply says, not hinting that I could do it. Well, he certainly took the liberty to adress me as 'Ana' without asking.

Then he surprises me. "But not doing it would make this dinner too formal," he smiles openly. "And I've had my fair share of business dinners for the week."

This honesty makes me smile. However, something quickly wipes the smile off my face. How did he know where I live?

"How did you find out where I live?" I ask, changing the subject.

He has two fingers rolling the glass in an hypnotizing swirl. "I have my ways."

I scowl. "Do you always pop up at people's doorsteps like that?"

The motion stops, and he's now staring deeply at me. "Only when it interests me, Ana."

That's not really an answer, but when he resumes his distracting swirl again, I don't think I can really proceed with this.

But then he speaks. "I hope I didn't cross any line by showing up."

"No, but we had agreed to meet here," I say, making a point.

He nods. "And how would you get here? Taxi?"

"Car."

"The Mercedes?"

I shake my head. "That's Kate's car. On my beetle."

This actually surprises him as he widens his eyes. "The rusty one? Well, that it was fortunate that I decided to pick you up or we'd only dine at eleven."

I'm sure there's a joke somewhere, but I simply dismiss it, frowning. "I had it all planned."

"I don't doubt," he says, taking a sip again. "Next time, you'll prove me wrong."

Next time?

I decide not to linger on that thought too long.

"What do you do on your free time?"

He shifts his chair closer to the table, placing an elbow on the table, resting his chin on his index finger. "You know, I'm sure someone asked me that very question just yesterday."

I gasp inwardly. Oh crap. "What a coincidence."

"Or not."

He's not mad nor bored. Just amused.

I clear my throat. "I really want to know."

"You're asking purely out of curiosity?" He asks, tracing his jaw with that same index finger.

"Yes."

He doesn't seem to buy my unconvincingly tone, but for reasons I cannot fathom, he speaks. "I have a lot of money, Ana. Of course my interests are heavily supported by this. I enjoy sailing and flying. Among other activities."

I quickly wonder what those 'other activities' may be. "You fly? As in, piloting a plane?"

He laughs mildly at my perplexity. "Well, yes."

"That seems very interesting," I confess.

"One day I'll show you."

There's that assumption again.

The waiter interrupts again, placing the prawn dish in front of us. That truly looks good.

"Have you decided on the main courses?"

We both nod. Christian looks at me, hinting me to speak first. "I'll have the Filet Mignon, please."

He writes it down. "And you, sir?"

"The lamb."

"Bon appétite!" He says in perfect french, before leaving again.

"And do you think your work interferes with your personal life?"

"Did Miss Kavangh put you up to this, Ana?" He asks deviously, catching me off guard.

Busted. "Um, maybe. But I would also like to know."

"Why?"

"I'm interested." That isn't far from the truth.

"Let's eat this lovely prawns before it gets cold," He replies, deviating from my question.

I take one to my mouth, biting it softly. Oh, this is so good. So good.

But I don't give up easily. "Will you answer my question?"

"No," he says, chewing his own prawns. "It does not interfere, Ana."

I sigh in relief. "But you clearly spend a lot of time in the office."

"I don't sleep _there," _He adds, not so amused right now. "I don't neglect my personal life, and you can see it to be true with this dinner, Ana."

I know this is personal. Not sure we're still talking about the same thing, though. I quickly spot the bathroom sign.

"Um, I need to go to the bathroom," I say, standing.

He nods. "Don't take long. The main course will be here soon."

I rush to the bathroom, circling the tables now filled with people. I open the door, and walk to the basin, looking at my reflection. "Get it together, Ana!"

There's no reason to fidget. Maybe that's how he naturally speaks to people. It doesn't make you special that he answers seem dubious.

I wash my hands, and exit it, almost bumping into a waitress, threatening the balance of the tray she's carrying.

Typical me.

As I sit, I see him look at me. "Everything okay?"

Our main courses are already there, smelling deliciously. "Yes. I just needed to freshen up."

Once again, I don't think he truly believes my words, but whatever opinion he has on the matter is masked with a shiny smile.

"Let's enjoy our meals, then."

Some uncomfortable minutes pass by, making my mind wander far too often to how mysterious he is. Well, he's very blunt. Whatever is drawing me near to him, certainly scares me. Here I am, dating a man I hardly know and succumbing to his treats.

A persistent turmoil inside me makes me speak up. "You're not trying to buy me off, are you Mr. Grey?"

I can see that my remark leaves him impressed to say the least. "Is that what you think I'm doing here?"

"I just find this very odd," I continue, deciding to be honest. "A man like you suddenly paying off my expenses and offering dinners..."

All the pleasant lines on his face evaporate. "So, I can't offer you these things out of the goodness of my heart?"

I roll my eyes. "I didn't say that. But I don't think you do that to everyone, right? Would you buy dinner to an old man?"

Maybe I've crossed the line.

"So, I'm interested in you, yes," he finally admits, actually shocking me. "Does it scare you?"

"Should it?"

A sly smile comes up. "You tell me. I'm a ver selfless man, Anastasia. However, not everyone gets this treatment."

That's not even an adequate answer.

"I didn't expect you to admit it," I say quietly, swirling the fork on the plate dismissevly.

"Why? Are we going to just sit here, pretending there is no connection between us?"

"How so?"

"If this makes you uncomfortable, maybe we should just leave," His voice is stern. "There is something I would like to show you, anyway."

An alarm bell rings inside me. "What?"

"Finish your meal and I'll show you, Miss Steele."

* * *

We exit the building, heading towards the parking lot. I expected to find Taylor already there, but the area was completely lifeless apart of the cars passing by and the occasional bird that chirps.

"Taylor is coming."

We stop by some cars, waiting for something to shift this atmosphere between us. I'm actually curious to see what he has to show me. On the other hand, I suddenly realize my exams are due next week, and I've barely studied enough.

He's standing close to me. _Too _close. To the point that his masculine scent becomes unbearable.

"I have to go home, Christian," I whisper, already guessing this wouldn't please him. "I have a lot to study, and I guess you can show it to me any other time."

"Are you sure you want to go home?" he asks in a low voice.

No, I didn't. But I'm sure he expects something from me tonight. Something I can't give him. "Well, I have to study for my exams, so..."

An inner battle starts inside me. The thrill of being wanted is certainly new to me. No guy ever made this effort. But the again, Christian Grey is not your typical 'guy'.

Even the strong lighting in the parking lot makes it difficult for me to see his face, but I imagine he's not pleased.

"I'm afraid I must insist, Ana," he simply says, making my jaw drop. He doesn't quit, does he? "The night is still young."

Before this gets out of hand, I decide to clarify some things. "Mr. Grey," I do not address him by his name on purpose. "I'm not that type of girl."

"What type, Ana?"

"The type you charm on the first...um... dinner, and expect things to unfold throughout the night," I say bluntly.

Again, I can sense him shift closer to me, encasing me between him and some random car. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"Isn't it?" I reply, my stomach flipping dangerously at this sudden twist.

"Why did you accept it then?" He asks, the dim light allowing me to see his sly smile. He knows he has me trapped. "What do you think happened tonight?"

The space between us shortens even more. "Dinner."

"And what do you think are my intentions now?"

All sorts of feelings storm in my head as I feel his hand slightly brush along my right arm, giving me the goosebumps.

"You want more."

A pause. "You intrigue me."

The hand on my arm shifts up, up until it caresses my bare shoulder.

Holy _shit_. "Christian, I don't think this is appropriate."

Another predator smile crosses his lips.

Is he going to kiss me?


	6. Chapter 6

**Enjoy!**

**I'll update tomorrow!**

* * *

The shrieking noise of the car alarm makes us both interrupt any alluring action that was about to happen. The headlights of the fancy Porsche are flashing alarmingly. Without really thinking of what I'm doing, I push Christian out of the way.

I don't know what's making me more nervous; the fact that we almost kissed, or the fact that the loud sound doesn't stop. In time, Canlis' security arrives only to find me a few meters away, and Christian looking astonished at the whole situation.

"What happened here?" One tall muscular man asks him.

"We were just passing by. I guess this car's alarm is too sensitive."

Obviously, his answer doesn't sound convincing enough, but considering this is Christian Grey, they have no reason to suspect otherwise. One of them had the car keys which are used to turn off the alarm.

Eventually, they walk away, leaving us both standing there rather awkwardly.

"Sorry."

"For what?" He asks, approaching me. "It's not your fault the alarm went off."

"I don't mean that," It's getting harder for me to speak, since my next words won't be pleasant. "I can't do this."

It's still to dark for me to see him clearly, but the silence that comes next gives me an idea of what's going on in his head. From what I've read and seen, men like him don't handle rejection all that well.

"You're really committed in pushing me away."

What does he want me to say? This is all new to me. When you grow up pretty much oblivious to the wonders of the opposite sex, there's not much to be expected. All of this is _too _good for a common person like me. He obviously sees something in me that I clearly don't, but hat doesn't mean his intentions are fair.

"I wasn't going to force you into anything, Anastasia." He then says, more carefully, but with a hint of warmth.

"You were going to kiss me."

He sighs. "What do you think I want from you?"

Are we really discussing this in the middle of a parking lot?

"Honestly, I think you're looking for a one-night stand." I admit, grabbing my satchel tighter. "And you're using all these nice things to get my attention."

"Really?"

Our little conversation doesn't last long as Taylor arrives in the same SUV as before. Christian open the door for me, and I enter immediately, not exchanging another word.

"Where to, sir?"

"Escala."

What? "I need to go home."

"No, you've lost that right when you accused me of alluring you with material things."

"So you're just abducting me?" I choke at his attitude.

Taylor is looking at us from the rear-view mirror, unsure what to do.

"Drive, Taylor."

"No!"

Of course the man follows Christian's orders, and starts driving against my will.

I've considered calling Kate a few times, but I don't think hes the type to abduct someone like that to force something sexually. No. I can handle this. I'm not as fragile as he thinks.

The journey isn't long, and Taylor stops in front of a towering building. The colossal Escala, a 31 story apartment building in the heart of Seattle. Of course he had to live here. Everything about this building screams Christian Grey.

I exit the car with a deep scowl on my face.

"I _have_ to go home."

Christian takes my arm in his hand. "Come. I'll show you something."

Crap. I want to slap him for his bold gesture towards me. I want to call him stupid for going against my will, but as we enter the building, I'm suddenly out of words.

He has to stop bringing me to these breath-taking places.

Oh, great. Another elevator. Just what I needed.

The door slide open, and he pushes me inside.

"Stop doing that!" I protest, and as I turn around to face him, he takes in my lips, forcing my back against the cold metal behind me.

A simple kiss shouldn't feel this good but it does, and it is unbelievably far more enjoyable then what I've imagined. I feel a strong tug on my bottom lip and the inquisitive tap of his tongue along it. This isn't a gentle kiss. I think he has been holding this for quite sometime and it all comes down to this very moment. Both his hands frame my face, diving into my hair as his attack persists.

Unconsciously, I bring on hand to his chest, but not to cuddle. As hypnotizing as this may be, I feel like he's invaded me in a very personal level. And I'm just not okay with that.

"Stop." i manage to speak against his never-stopping lips.

However, he does break our contact, looking at me dazedly, something lustful in his eyes. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this."

"It's not okay to do this in the elevator!" I half-scream. "You can't just kiss people like that."

I don't think he's getting my message quite well. Maybe it's because my tone isn't the most convincing one. He does step back slightly, giving me room to catch my breath.

"You want me to stop?"

"I never said I wanted you to start!"

A sly smile crosses his face. "That's not what I asked."

Fuck. He's good at turning things to his side. Why can't I show how mad I am?

Maybe I'm not mad.


	7. Chapter 7

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_"There is nothing special about dominating the weak. Any bully can do that. But, there is nothing more beautiful than seeing a strong, independent woman choose to serve you, please you, to give herself, body and soul, completely to you. Only a true dominant can earn such a gift." Unknown_

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As soon as I enter his penthouse, I'm sure of one thing: this is crazy. I have barely stepped my room inside, and this aura of luxury washes down on me. I'm not going to lie, I'm astonished to say the least.

The lights automatically turn on, allowing us to walk further inside. The ample foyer opens up to an overwhelming living room that is flanked by multiple entries to other places in the penthouse. However, it's the long grand piano that draws my attention.

Christian is just standing a few inches away from me, contemplating my flabbergasted reaction.

"Isn't this a little bit too much for one person?" I ask, pacing along the room, looking around as I go.

"It's eccentric, and it fits me."

The all-glassed window room presents me with a glorious view over Seattle's famous Needle, towering buildings as far as I can see. This takes my breath away.

"Do you like it?" his voice shows amusement. He knows the answer to it.

At this, I turn around to face him. "Are you kidding me? I would never have a place like this in a million years."

All of a sudden, my previous outrage at his blunt kiss is forgotten, giving room to utter amazement. My sandals click rhythmically on the pure with floor as I walk around, taking in as much as I can; modern furniture that includes a stand alone fireplace; the shiny black piano; and ultimate displays of art that only makes this even more unbelievable.

"You play the piano?" I ask, letting my fingers caress the instrument.

He joins my side, contemplating my gesture towards such delicate thing. "I do. Quite a passion of mine."

"I would have never taken you for a piano lover."

Our eyes cross. Another side grin from him. "It seems to me you're drawing all the wrong conclusions about me, Ana."

An inevitable blush warms my face.

"Have a seat, please."

I accepted his invitation, and walked to sit on the couch nearby. Holy crap. Penthouses are things unreachable for people like me, and the closest I've ever gotten to one was in several Hollywood movies. The urge to pinch myself to check my awareness state comes to my head, but I dismiss it quickly as a pair of gray eyes make me focus.

"I'm sorry if I... rushed things back there, Ana," Christian's voice is calm.

"Apologies accepted."

It sounds a bit colder than intended, but this is probably due to my embarrassment. My intimate endeavors with men have been null up until a few minutes ago. Not that I'm old fashioned or repulsive towards them; I guess I was never... presented with such ferocious actions.

Once again, he's looking at me as if studying my every move. I notice he has loosened his tie slightly, only making him look more appealing. I really need to stop thinking like this. It's inappropriate.

"You're quite something, Ana," It isn't a question.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't think that my display in the elevator is something I do on a daily basis," he assures me, making me relax a bit. "In fact, I can't recall the last time I've kissed a woman like that."

"Um... thanks?" I whisper unsure.

He shakes his head. "Don't thank me. I know I stepped the line. I shouldn't have done it."

"You're right," I agree. "But there isn't much to be done about that now."

He startles me as he gets on his knees in front of me, narrowed eyes ever reading mine. "You're _so_ intriguing, and I don't know why. Maybe it's the combination of innocence with a tad of feisty spirit."

I freeze when one of his hands comes to my arm. There is something between us I cannot explain. It's not his wealth or power that truly pull me into this mysterious man knelt in front of me; not even his extremely good looks and fashion sense. Something invisible to my eyes makes me want to seize this moment. There is no discomfort in being quiet with him just staring at me.

However, my rational half decides it has a say in this. I remove his hand from my skin. "Christian, I barely know you. I really want to believe I'm not here for another purpose, but..."

"...but you still think I'm that shallow."

Once again, not a question.

He sits back, removing the tie around his neck, holding it in front of me. "Do you know how much this Hugo Boss tie cost?"

I shake my head, of course.

"Ninety dollars. Pretty fancy, eh?"

"I suppose."

"What about this tuxedo? Equally expensive."

I blink in confusion as he removes his dark blue jacket, throwing it behind him carelessly.

"I know why you're afraid of my intentions," he says, his tie still dangling from his hand. "Prejudice. You're part of the majority that thinks that rich man would rather parade their money in front of women's eyes rather than sitting and having a sincere conversation."

"I didn't say that!" I let out surprised at his accusation.

He stands at once, sitting again on the velvet couch, his tone less controlled now. "Not _directly_. I saw your reaction when I told you not to worry about the prices at dinner. I wouldn't be surprised if that's what you thought when I payed your hospital bill."

"I-I..." My mouth goes incredibly dry at this. Point taken. I may have considered that possibility, and probably at the expense of a certain roommate, but that doesn't mean I'm labeling him as a playboy.

Christian releases the first two buttons of his linen white shirt, sighing heavily. "You went on a date with me. Not my tie; not my penthouse, not my tuxedo. _Me_."

Wow. What a way to make a statement. I bend my head, looking at the hands on my lap, embarrassment flooding my cheeks.

"Don't do that."

My head snaps upright again. "What?"

"Don't hide your face from me," he says, almost pleadingly. "I'm not angry. Hell, you should be the one mad, considering my abrupt kiss."

I honestly don't know how he managed to melt any resentment left inside me with one simple sentence. Being a passionate literature woman I know better than anyone the thrills of being conquered by words.

"I'm not mad," I admit. "I'm just not used to it."

"Being kissed? Or being kissed like _that_?"

My hesitation dangles for a moment. "Being kissed at all."

I break my eye contact with him, feeling slightly out of place.

"You've never been kissed?" Even though I'm not staring at him, the tension in his voice gives away his surprise.

I shake my head. "No."

"That explains a lot."

Our eyes meet again. "What do you mean? Am I that obvious?"

A condescending smile lifts his lips. "You were highly responsive to my touch. I may be good looking, but your response gave it away."

"Sorry."

He leaps to my side, grabbing my chin, forcing me to face him. "Don't be sorry for that. Ever."

His eyes wander to my lips, and I wondered if he'd kiss me again. The moment is telling us to. However, he doesn't do it. Instead, he traces my jawline with his thumb.

"Don't be afraid of me, Ana."

"I'm not."

It's a sincere answer. Nothing he's doing is daunting me. The great heroes of poetry and other classic love stories should learn from him. He can have any woman he wants; if not for his looks, his money would, and yet he's sitting before me, eyeing me as if I'm the piece missing from his puzzle.

Eventually, the strangling build up is cut off.

"Do you want something to drink?"

I'm still hovering our last moment, but I manage to voice my request quite blandly. "Water, please."

He leaves my side, and I watch him pace quickly to the kitchen area, making me observe my surroundings again. "Do you clean the house by yourself?"

I hear a soft snort. "Of course not. I have an housekeeper, Gail Jones."

Suddenly, I feel stressed. The image of a middle aged woman comes into mind. He walks to me again, and seeing my restlessness, he speaks. "She's not here today. Her mother is in the hospital, so I've given her the day off."

"Oh. I hope everything is okay," I take the glass in my hands.

"Don't worry," he says, drinking what seems to be whiskey.

After some minutes gazing beyond the tall windows, he speaks. "Let me just go to the bathroom."

And before I know it, he's gone. I seize the opportunity to stare more bluntly across the living room. Is this for real? Am I really in the middle of a penthouse? Kate will faint when I tell her.

A loud buzz vibrates through the couch next to mine, causing me to jolt. It's his Blackberry. Being none of my business, I don't move to pick it up. However, its irritating noise begins digging its way through my head.

I stand up to grab it as the name 'Leila W.' appears, blinking on the display.

"Christian!" I call out, not getting an answer.

It may be important.

No. You have no right to pick up his calls, Ana!

A stronger force pulls into pushing the button.

"Hello?"

"Who is this?"

"Um..."

before i can formulate a decent sentence, a beeping noise comes out. Whoever it was, just hung up.

"What is it?"

Christian approaches me.

"There was a Leila W. calling you, but she hung up when I picked it up."

"You answered her?" I believe his face goes a few shades paler.

I nod.

"Fuck."


End file.
